Chapter 11: What Is Past Is Prologue

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Thirty Years Ago . . .

They'd driven for days, stopping only for gas, food, and bathroom breaks. Miles of long roads and even longer silences, the rise of the moon and the setting of the sun marking the time between Lara and Jor and the child they'd been forced to leave one state away. Jor tried to force the image of a red-faced and sobbing Kal from his mind. The one he knew would haunt him for the rest of his days. The fact that Jor and Lara had done what was best for their son was of little solace to the father Jor had once been.

But he was a father no more, having given up that right when he'd abandoned his sweet Kal El.

Jor, mentally and physically exhausted, opened the door to the motel room he'd rented. Lara would likely go mad if Jor forced her to sleep another night in the car by the side of some unknown highway. Sure, his wife hadn't complained. That was her way. But she also hadn't said more than ten words to him since they'd left Kal and Kansas.

Holding the door for his wife, Jor waited for Lara to enter before following her, making sure to lock the door afterward.

The room, as he'd expected, was nothing special. A double bed, two lamps, a nightstand, dresser, brown-and-blue lined wallpaper, and dark-brown carpet marked the motel as cheap and serviceable but—thankfully— clean. The closed wooden door opposite the front door Jor still stood in front of, was, he assumed, the bathroom.

Like so many other pit stops they'd made since going on the run, this room was yet another reminder of all Lara and Jor had been forced to endure and give up since General Zod's men had found their trail. How that had happened, Jor did not know. Not that it really mattered, but the thought that Zod had gone to such lengths to find them was a scary price Jor had prayed his family would never have to pay.

And what price was steeper than leaving one's own son at an orphanage to be raised by strangers? None Jor knew of, not even death, which would've been preferable than not knowing if he and Lara had just sentenced Kal to a fate worse than death. He hoped . . . he fervently prayed that a kind family would come along, see how special Kal was and care for his son, loving him as much as Jor and Lara did.

"I'm going to take a bath." The words, spoken low and without feeling, stung as if Lara had slapped him. She hadn't even turned to face him. Instead, she said them as she rummaged through one of her bags, pulling out a change of clothing and toiletries. Then she was in the bathroom, door closed with a soft click that thudded through Jor for all the pain it held at bay.

Dropping the bags he carried, Jor slumped against the wall. Then, because his legs would hold him no longer, slid down it, and before his backside hit the carpet, Jor was already crying. Unbidden, the tears flowed, a silent deluge of pain and frustration.

He'd failed his family. He'd foolishly thought that by fleeing Krypton he could escape its tentacles. Jor had convinced Lara of this, assuring her that once they crossed the Kryptonian border they would be safe. Despite the oppressive Zod government, when Jor had proposed leaving, he understood the magnitude of what he was asking of Lara. The same as he was willing to give up—family and friends.

And Lara, Rao bless her, had never questioned Jor. Not because she was some weak, mindlessly dutiful wife, but because she loved and trusted her husband. Then, when she'd thought them free to live their lives the way they desired, she'd given them a child, a son with Jor's mouth and nose but Lara's kind and trusting disposition.

But he hadn't deserved such unfailing faith. Now, Lara's been forced—once again—to give up everything of value to her. Although, in the end, Lara's most precious possession had been her son, which, thanks to Jor and his arrogance, they'd had to let go of. The same as everyone else they'd loved and lost - Krypton their home, their heart, and their prison.

So Jor cried for the brave and stupid man he'd been, believing himself more cunning than the reach of a power-hungry dictator. He wept for Kal who would never know how much his parents loved him and how leaving him had ripped their hearts out. And Jor cried for his wife, a woman whose strength and endurance exceeded his own but whose love he cherished more than breath itself and whose sorrow he knew not how to take away.

Jor didn't know how long he sat on the bushy carpet and quietly wept for the death of his fatherhood. But by the time he lifted blood shot eyes, the sun had slipped away and his wife lay curled in the bed, black hair shiny and wet, tense back to him.

Struggling to his feet, Jor stood, feeling a sudden need to wash away the filth and grime of the last few days. Stripping as he went, Jor made his way to the bathroom and the warm shower that awaited. Strong pulses of water sluiced over him, cleansing his body but not his mind, his soul. Nothing could ever do that, he knew with a deep, disturbing ache of regret.

Clean and wearing only boxers, Jor joined his wife in bed. Eyes closed, back still to him, Lara did not sleep, this Jor knew. Lara's face, beautiful while awake, in sleep she was simply resplendent, open and awe-inspiring. But this night, like all the others since leaving Kal, her face shone with a graceless, melancholic stiffness that added worry lines where none used to be. Her breathing, while even, did not purr with the deep satisfaction that came with contented slumber

Wanting to soothe his wife but needing her comfort even more, Jor cradled Lara, wrapping too hairy legs and too desperate arms around her.

She sighed then sank into his embrace, accepting—thank Rao—Jor's loving solace.

"They'll be here come morning."

This Jor knew. They couldn't outrun them. He'd been a fool to ever think he could.

"I know." Arms tightened possessively, nose went to hair and drew in a humbling breath of fortitude. "You should take the car and money and leave. If they have me, I don't think they'll follow you."

For excruciating minutes Lara said nothing. Then she turned in his arms and caught him with a bold, furious glare. Jor was reminded, in that heated, stubborn gaze of hers, why she'd stolen his heart so many years ago and why—help them both—they'd likely die together.

"No." A single whispered word, but one forged in steel and wrapped in the wedding vows they'd never once betrayed. Why would he think Lara would begin today?

Her hand lifted to his chest, covering the heart that beat far too fast and repeated her two-word declaration.

And that was that. No discussion. No argument, just a simple word that sealed their fate.

So when the sun rose and they opened their eyes, they faced the new day together, unfazed by the four men with guns pointed at their heads, unforgiving grimaces on their faces, Kryptonian dripping from their lips.

"Treason carries the penalty of death Jor El."

The huge man smiled, broad and ugly.

For the first time in his life, Jor regretted choosing mercy over revenge. "I should have killed you when I had the chance, Non."

General Dru Zod's right hand man and pit bull nodded. "You should have at that."

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

Now . . .

Open-mouthed, Clark stared at his father. The story he'd just told him was almost too much to believe. If it hadn't been too-serious Jor relaying the story, Clark may have doubted its authenticity. But his father, while not a man given to full disclosure, was also a man not known to exaggerate or lie.

Clark closed his mouth, realizing how long he'd been staring at his father like a fish out of water, moving his lips but making no sound.

He'd known from their previous discussions that Jor and Lara had left Clark at the orphanage because the Krypton Secret Police had managed to track the Els down. They had also told Clark that they'd decided it would be best to return to Krypton instead of running for the rest of their lives. He hadn't understood why they would've made such a decision, why they would give him up and sacrifice their own freedom just to return to some backwater of a country where civil and human rights were just words in a textbook.

Now, well, now he understood. They hadn't returned willingly, they'd been, literally, forced by gunpoint.

Sitting on the edge of his seat, Clark grappled to wrap his mind around this new news. How a few facts could change one's outlook on a history they thought they comprehended so clearly. He'd believed his parents when they'd first confessed the reason they had given him up. Clark had accepted the story, even, with time, forgiving them. Yet, now knowing the full story made everything click for Clark.

They feared for their lives . . . and mine. Their leaving him alone had never been simply about not wanting to return to Krypton and an oppressive existence, although that was bad enough. It had been about love and a parent's sacrifice. This Clark, the father, could wholeheartedly understand. There would be nothing he wouldn't do to protect his children. And if that meant turning them over to someone else to love and raise, while it would be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do, Clark would do it. He would break his heart and theirs, if it meant saving their lives from the likes of someone like this Non person.

"After Lara and I dressed, Non and his men huddled us into a van. Two days later, we were back on Kryptonian soul, accused of treason." Jor breathed deeply, his eyes on Clark. But there was a dark haze to his focus that told Clark his father was seeing the past as much as he was seeing him.

That bomb had Clark sitting back in his seat. When he'd met his parents, they'd been retired scientists who lived in an upscale Argo City neighborhood with a perfectly manicured lawn, pleasant neighbors, and a spotless, as far as he knew, reputation. But they'd been tried for treason. I guess not such a spotless reputation after all.

"What happened, Dad? Were you and Mom found guilty?"

"We were guilty the day I attacked Non, General Zod's second-in-command. The bastard thought because he was in charge of the Krypton Investigative Services Division, where your mother and I worked, that such rank and privilege extended to the females. Scientists, secretaries, lab assistants, custodians, Non didn't care. No woman, as far as he was concerned, was off limits."

Clark gritted his teeth, sensing where this part of the story was going. "Did he . . . did he attack Mom?" Clark couldn't bring himself to use the word rape. But it dangled in the air between the men, the same as it had when Jor had stared at Diana's unconscious body when Clark had pulled her from the house where she'd been left for dead. Their eyes had met, and Clark had seen the same question in his father eyes that had been ghosting through Clark's mind. Thankfully, luckily, Diana had escaped that particular horrific fate. Had Mom?

Jor's eyes snapped in anger then narrowed. "One day Non cornered Lara in our lab. I was holed up researching something I can no longer recall. I left her, telling Lara I would return in an hour to two." Jor snorted. "Having gotten lost in my reading, I was gone much longer. When I returned, that freak of nature had Lara pinned to the floor . . ."

Jor closed his eyes, anguish flooding his pale face.

Clark balled fists itching to seek revenge on his mother's behalf.

"He didn't . . . he didn't get the chance, but it was a near thing. In my rage, I grabbed the first thing I could find, which was an electronic balance. I smashed it over his head. He fell off Lara. I hit him again. And again. And again. I wanted to kill the bastard. I wanted to keep hitting him until he couldn't hurt anyone else. I wanted . . . but seeing your mother, her eyes wide in horror as Non's blood splattered on the floor, on me, on her, I knew I couldn't do it. Not because I didn't have it in me to rid the world of such a vile, coldhearted beast, but because I didn't want my wife to view me as a murderer, even one who killed in defense of the woman he loved. So I dropped the balance, grabbed my wife, and got the hell out of there."

Knowing his mother hadn't been ravaged, Clark began to breathe easier. Then his thoughts wandered to his own wife and what he would do if he ever had the men who'd kidnapped and hurt her in his sights, at his mercy the way Jor had Non. Until that day he'd watched Diana fight for her life, terror and ferocity in her dark blue orbs, Clark had never tasted the frightening desire to rip a man's heart out with his bare hands. He'd, like his father so many years ago, had wanted to kill to protect his wife, his woman. Barbaric? Maybe, but that thought changed little for a man in the throes of a protective rage.

"What happened next?"

"Your mother and I had already talked about fleeing Krypton. We'd been slowly making plans, taking small amounts of money out of the bank. Not enough to raise red flags, you know? But, over time, the withdrawals added up to a nice sum. With a little help from a few people, we managed to slip away that night. When we'd left the lab, I'd closed and locked the door, sure no one would find the unconscious and bleeding Non until the next morning. That gave us a halfway decent head start. By morning, Lara and I were out of Argo City."

"Where did you go?"

"To the home of another scientist. A friend of your Uncle Zor. We stayed with him a few days before moving on. Eventually, we made it across the border and into the Soviet Union . . . Russia. And after that, with fake passports, we traveled to Cuba and finally to the United States."

All dangerous and illegal, Clark concluded. It couldn't have been easy, no matter how steadily his father had just described his and Lara's great escape. But that still didn't explain what happened to them once they were forcefully taken back to Krypton.

"So what about the charge of treason?"

"Like I said, as soon as I attacked Non, there was no going back, no way to undo what I'd done. We were found guilty and sentenced to life in prison."

Clark was back on the edge of his seat. "You were what? That can't be right. If was self-defense, for god's sake." And what of the asshole who'd tried to rape his mother? Had that meant nothing to the courts? Was there even a trial?

Jor reached for a bottle of water, taking a long drink before continuing. "General Zod didn't really want us imprisoned. Sure, he used us to make a point, to show the country that no one was above his law or beyond his reach. Two months into our sentence, we were brought to his office."

"What in the hell did he want?"

"The same as all military men. More power. Better weapons."

Clark tensed, then began shaking his head. "You gave the megalomaniac kryptonite in exchange for your and Mom's freedom." It wasn't a question. The shameful truth was there, in the way Jor barely held Clark's gaze.

"If it were just me, Kal . . . Clark, I would've refused to help him. But it wasn't just me. There was your mother to consider. Because of me, she'd already lost you. I couldn't also be the reason why she spent decades in prison, or worse, died there due to abuse and mistreatment. And then there was Non, she would've been at his cruel mercy if she'd stayed in prison."

"So you agreed to create . . . a what? What exactly is kryptonite, anyway?"

"Today, I guess you would call it a biological weapon. Better than anything that had come out of the United States and Russia during the Cold War. It was the ultimate way to punish your enemies and to control your populace."

As much as Clark hated everything his father had just said, in truth, it made an odd kind of sense. Jor El, by nature, was not a violent or immoral man. But he was a man who, when pushed against the wall, did what he felt was best to protect those he loved, even when those decisions had far-reaching ramifications for so many others.

"So explain one thing to me, Dad. If you created the virus or disease or whatever in the hell you want to call it, why can't you recreate the antidote? Why do we have to travel to damn Krypton?"

Jor downed more of his water, putting the glass back in the seat cup holder when he was done. "For two reasons, son. As I told you before, I haven't thought about that formula in three decades. My memory is not what it once was. I'm sure, given time—a month or two— I could recreate the antidote. But, hell, we both know Diana doesn't have a month or two."

Unfortunately, this was true. "What's the second reason?"

"Without a doubt it's kryptonite exposure, but I'm not positive if Diana was given exactly what I created. Like I said, it's been thirty years, time enough for some other scientist to have made changes to the original design. Even if my memory was perfect and I recreated the antidote, it would've been a risk to give it to her. I could've made her condition worse."

The only thing worse than Diana's current condition would be death; Clark grasped what his father was telling him. Yet there had to be more to the story.

"So if you gave this Zod jerk what he wanted, why, after all these years, did he send his men after my wife?"

Pausing, Jor gazed out of the window, the sky foggy and dark, like his parents' past.

"Because," Jor began, turning back to Clark, "I used the kryptonite against his soldiers. With the help of Lara and another scientist assigned to work with us, we slowly began to infect them, slipping the toxin into the physical enhancement pills Zod made them all take. It was a small thing to do. The pills were also created in the same building, just two floors up from our lab. We simply switched out the correct pills with the false ones. We did it in small doses and over different time periods, as to not arouse suspicion with too many soldiers getting sick at the same time. But, after three months, fifty percent of Zod's soldiers were either in the hospital or dead. Six-weeks after that, another twenty-five percent of his soldiers were gone. With little to protect him from the people he'd held down with his boot, seeing their opportunity to oust Zod, Kryptonians stormed his palace. A year later, the Kryptonian High Council had been reinstated."

Clark had no idea what in the world the Kryptonian High Council was, but, he assumed, it was some sort of governing body. He vaguely remembered Kara once telling him that the Els, among other respected families, had once sat on a Council and collaboratively ruled Krypton. A House of Lords, of sorts, without a House of Commons, yet it was the military who protected the country and the Council members.

"Who heads the Council? Is it the President of Krypton?" That would make the most sense to Clark. He couldn't imagine the president of a country sharing power with the head of the High Council."

"Yes, they are one in the same." Jor touched Clark's shoulder. "One thing you should know Clark, the president is also the same man who helped me bring down Zod."

"Are you saying the third scientist who helped create kryptonite is the President of Krypton and head of the High Council?"

"Yes. That's why we're going there. If anyone can help Diana, it's H'el."

TO BE CONTINED